


In The Night

by The_neigh_sayer



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Other, Werewolf, alternate universe Arthur Morgan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23083498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_neigh_sayer/pseuds/The_neigh_sayer
Summary: In search for a mysterious creature John comes upon a stranger--or so he thinks.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

The moon was full and bright, casting a radiant glow on the West Grizzlies. It was a beautiful night with a chill in the air, the kind for which the state of Ambarino was known. It was eerily quiet; the kind of silence that indicated there was danger nearby. A thick fog had settled across the mountains and down the valley, making the silence seem interminable.

The stillness was broken by the screams of a rabbit caught in the jaws of a predator. The sounds of ripping flesh and crunching bone emanated from the shadows, and the flash of yellow eyes peered out menacingly. Suddenly, the killer was on the move, running, claws digging into the earth, creating furrows with each step. It ran through the woods, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. 

The occasional glimpse caught by the moonlight showed it to be of the canine variety. Folks would call it a wolf, though it was not like any wolf they'd ever seen--not that anyone had ever actually seen it, mind you. It was huge--twice the size of a normal timber wolf, and ten times more dangerous; it had a tendency to kill everything in its path, often leaving what was left of the corpse unrecognizable. It was the stuff of myths and legends.

Though it was immense it moved with the deftness of a deer, jumping from rock to rock across a stream. It ran up a rocky outcropping, stopping at the top of a cliff face, peering out over a small valley below. The moonlight made its fur glimmer; it was light brown with streaks of gray, revealing its advanced age.

It spotted a few wolves in the valley below, hunting. It drew a deep breath and issued a warning with a loud, long, spine-tingling howl that caused every animal nearby to run.

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John awoke with a start, sitting up in bed and looking around at the dark cabin. He looked over at Abigail & Jack's sleeping forms, wondering what had woken him up. 

He laid back down and rolled onto his side when a bone-chilling howl broke the silence, causing him to sit up again. He stared into the dark toward the sound, the hair standing up on the back of his neck. He got up and peered out the window, not seeing anything out of the ordinary outside. He stood there for a few minutes, looking and waiting. Eventually he went back to bed, trying to settle in. 

Though he didn't hear any more noises, sleep failed him the rest of the night.

He got up the next morning, earlier than usual, tired of wishing for sleep to claim him. He made coffee, then went out into the twilight morning chill, preparing for his daily chores. 

Pronghorn Ranch was in a beautiful spot, and the sunrises were spectacular. John began mucking out the barn as the sky slowly brightened and the ranch began waking up. As he was finishing up the barn, Tom Dickens appeared in the doorway. 

"Good morning, Jim. You're up early."

John stopped and leaned on the pitchfork. "Yeah, couldn't sleep. Did you hear that howling last night? What the hell was that?"

Tom shook his head. "Yeah, we've heard it a couple times now. I'm sure it's just a wolf. Seems to be closer every time I hear it. We'll have to keep a close eye on the livestock, but, hopefully it stays in the mountains." He looked around at the stalls. "Well, I'll let you get back to it." With a wave of his hand, he left the barn. John nodded, returning the pitchfork to the wall, and pushing the wheelbarrow out of the barn to dump it. Everyone went about their chores as usual.

They heard the howling again that night, sounding even closer. The following morning Mr. Geddes gathered all of the hands, discussing what to do about this wolf. He decided to put someone on guard duty at night to keep an eye on things. He asked John to go out and check for sign of the wolf--tracks, dead animals, anything.

John rode out a little bit later, despite Abigail's protestations. It was his job, what was he supposed to do? He made sure his guns were freshly oiled and that he had plenty of ammunition with him; he figured he'd kill two birds with one stone and do a little hunting while he was out.

He first rode around the perimeter of the property, checking for sign, widening the circle as he went around. Seeing nothing he rode north, toward Big Valley and the direction of the howls.

He got a couple of whitetails and turkeys straightaway, then continued riding north, behind Hanging Dog Ranch, up the mountains. He decided to go off the track into the trees, figuring he may have a better chance at spotting sign that way. He didn't get far when he spotted what appeared to be the remains of a deer, though all that was recognizable was a leg. He dismounted and walked over to it, crouching down to inspect it closely. It was torn to absolute shreds. He'd never seen anything mauled like this before. Looking around the carcass he saw some tracks that sent a shiver down his spine. They were dog-like, but huge. Way too big to be a normal wolf. 

It suddenly occurred to him that it could be nearby right now, watching him. A surge of fear and adrenaline told him to run, but his logic told him that was a sure way to die if it was watching. He stood and slowly scanned the area, seeing nothing. Deciding it'd be a good idea to get out of there, he mounted his horse and headed back to the ranch. 

That night, to the relief of everyone, there was no howling. They hoped that would be the end of it and went about their chores as usual. 

A few days later, John went out hunting again, further up the mountains. He cut through the woods, searching for herbs and keeping an eye out for wolf sign. 

He wandered on, moving above the snowline, following an elk track, not noticing the dark clouds that had moved in. Before he knew it it was snowing, coming down fast and thick.

He went on, moving south, hoping to either get out of the snow or find a place to hunker down. Through a particularly thick stand of trees he saw smoke curling up into the air. Making his way through the dense woods and snow he came upon a cabin; it was dilapidated and looked abandoned save for the smoke coming out of the chimney.

John hitched his horse and walked to the cabin door, slowly pushing it open. It was a one-room cabin with just a few pieces of broken-down furniture and a fire in the fireplace. No people--good. He hurried to the fireplace, warming himself, hoping whoever lived here wouldn't be back anytime soon. He chided himself for getting caught in a squall like this; this was precisely why he should've stayed below the snowline. He could hear the wind whipping up outside. He really didn't want to stay here, but he may be stuck. 

Suddenly the door to the cabin flew open and a man appeared in the doorway. John froze in place as the man stepped into the cabin enough to close the door behind him, shutting out the blowing snow. He watched the man as he slowly approached, each one sizing each other up, John's hand twitching near his pistol on his hip. The man was older, had long, scraggly brown hair streaked with gray, and a long beard the same color. If it were cleaner it may be a dark blond. His bedraggled clothes hung on his frame; he looked much thinner than he should've been, bones prominent. His face was weathered, what John could see of it through the dirt and grime.

What stood out, though, was the man's eyes. A mix of green and blue, they were...familiar. John's eyes narrowed and he stepped closer. He knew those eyes. Eyes he hadn't seen in about eight years.

As John's eyes widened in realization, the man suddenly deflated, all fight going out of him, and he turned and sat in the chair behind him, staring off into space. 

John was unsure what to do next. He looked around, confused, thousands of thoughts running through his mind. How? What? When? But mostly: Why?

His eyes landed on the man and he broke the silence. "Arthur?"

The man slowly looked up from his chair. "Hi John."


	2. Chapter 2

John stood staring at Arthur, speechless. 

Arthur chuckled and looked away. "Yeah, I guess this is about the reaction I expected."

"Arthur, what...what is going on? I--I thought you were dead. I thought you died all those years ago at Beaver Hollow. Where have you been?"

Arthur hung his head, looking at the floor. "I should've died that night, John. I think I was meant to. But something happened that kept me alive."

John threw his hands out in confusion. "What are you talking about? What happened? What is going on??"

Arthur stood and slowly wandered over to the fireplace, holding his hands out to the heat. He looked at John. "I'm not who I used to be, John. I'm different. And I'm not really sure I can explain it so you'd understand."

"Try me," John said, placing a hand on his hip and leaning against the wall.

Arthur grabbed a chair from the table and pulled it over near the fireplace, motioning at the other chair. "Pull up a chair. This could take a while; may as well get comfortable." He chuckled ruefully.

John grabbed the other chair and moved it to face Arthur's. As he sat down, Arthur took a deep breath, and started talking. 

"That night, after you left, Micah showed up out of nowhere and attacked me. We fought on that ridge, pretty hard. I was almost dead. Then Dutch showed up, which stopped it. He just...looked at me. Had nothing to say. No apology, no explanation, nothing. I tried to make him see. But I don't think I did. He just...walked away. And Micah, that rat, followed him, still running his goddam mouth about the money in Blackwater."

He met John's eyes, a sadness in them John had never seen before. "He just left me there, John. Just left me to die. Again. Same as he did to you."

He closed his eyes, lowered his head, and sighed. Then he continued. "Anyway, after they both left, I couldn't catch my breath, felt like I was drowning. I blacked out. Then I came to to something biting my arm. The pain woke me up, I guess. Opened my eyes to find this huge creature, it looked like a wolf only much bigger. And the noises it made as it was biting me, I nearly pissed my pants. I screamed, and I passed out again. I thought I was dead. But I woke up again, it was morning, and it was gone. For whatever reason, it hadn't killed me, hadn't eaten me. And, weirdly, I could breathe."

John sat motionless, trying to process what Arthur was saying. He continued. "I didn't really know what had happened, but, I went to a doctor to see about the wound where the wolf had bitten me, got it all cleaned up and everything. And on the road out of town this crazy woman who was passing me on foot, she stopped and stared at me. She looked crazy; she was old, had long, gray hair, wore this long black dress. She just slowly pointed at me and I stopped. And she said, 'You have been marked by the beast seen only by the full moon.' I just stared at her, didn't know what to say. Then she said, 'You are new but you will soon see a change in yourself. The moon will tell you." Then she just kept walking. 

Arthur sighed. "She was right. There was a full moon three weeks later and...I changed."

John just looked at him. "Changed how?"

Arthur looked down at the floor then back up to John. "Do you know what werewolves are?"

John shook his head. "Not sure. I've maybe heard about them in, like, nursery rhymes or something, but..."

Arthur nodded. "Yeah, fictional tales. Myths and whatnot, right?"

"Yeah, stuff like that." 

Arthur chuckled and slowly shook his head. "They're no myth, John. They're real. I learned a lot about them. After that woman said that to me and then what happened three weeks later, I did some searching. Found some interesting folks who knew some things. I told them what happened that night on the mountain, about that wolf biting me. Then they explained to me about werewolves. Said that creature was one and now I'm cursed."

He looked John in the eye, his face expressionless. "I'm a werewolf, John. Have been ever since that night, I reckon. Every full moon I change into a beast. A wolf, only bigger. And worse. Meaner."

John was speechless, unable to comprehend how such a thing was possible. He just stared at Arthur. Finally, he said, "A werewolf? Seriously?"

Arthur nodded, his eyes never leaving John's. The look on Arthur's face told John he was telling the truth. And it would certainly explain the howling they'd been hearing and the carcass he'd found annihilated.

John said, "So...how do you...change?"

"It starts in my hands and feet. They change into these huge paws. Hair sprouts out everywhere. Everything changes, but I'm not sure how because usually by that point I black out from the pain. It is excruciating, John. Feels like I've been filled with fire and then ripped apart, piece by piece. And I don't wake up till I've changed back. Three days later I wake up in the morning, naked, usually in random places, with no memory of anything that's happened. Lately since I've been holed up here for a while I've been waking up near here, thankfully."

John chuckled and rubbed his face. "Arthur, I don't know what to do with this. So, you literally change into a wolf?"

Arthur shook his head. "I know, it sounds ridiculous, but it actually happens. Every month during the full moon."

"So, that howling we've been hearing lately is you." John said it as a statement of fact, not a question, as he tried to process this information. 

Arthur only nodded.

John got up and paced around the cabin. "Arthur, this is crazy. A werewolf? How can such a thing even exist? First, I find out you're alive, not dead, and now you're telling me you're a goddam werewolf?" He was pacing faster now, hands gesticulating wildly. Arthur just watched him. "Some kind of mythical creature?! I feel like I'm going nuts here!"

Arthur looked down at the floor and snorted. "Now you know how I felt for the first couple of months. I thought I'd gone completely one hundred percent insane." He looked up at John, the sadness back in his eyes. "I'm telling the truth, John. I need you to know that."

John just stood looking at him. "I believe you, Arthur. I'm just...having trouble with it.” 

Arthur laughed a little too loudly. "Well, that makes two of us."


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur stood. "You want some coffee? Judging by the snow coming down you may be here a while."

John looked out the window at the falling snow then turned to watch Arthur rummage around in a cupboard for the can of coffee. "Yeah, may be."

Arthur brought the coffee pot over to the fireplace and placed it on the grate over the fire, then sat back down. "Well, I reckon that'll give us a little time to catch up, huh?"

John looked at Arthur intently. "Where have you been all this time, Arthur?"

Arthur folded his arms and looked into the fire. "Around. Moved around a lot. Had to. Kept killing and always had people coming after me. I usually stick around an area for a while until it gets to be unwelcome and then I move on." He shrugged and looked at John. "For now, I'm here. Who knows for how long."

Arthur laughed and shook his head. "I'm sick of talking about myself. What about you? Abigail and Jack?" He noticed the coffeepot perking and got up, pouring a cup and handing it to John then pouring himself a cup and sitting back down.

John nodded his thanks at Arthur as he took the cup. "Abigail and Jack are fine. We're living at a ranch down in the valley, I'm working there as a hand. Only been there about a month or so. We moved around a lot, too."

"That night, after I left you I went to Copperhead Landing and met up with Abigail, Jack, Tilly, & Sadie. Tilly rode off to St. Denis. Sadie had gotten a boat and we got outta there fast. Followed the river north. Sadie got off in Annesburg and we kept going. Landed in Canada. Spent some time wandering up there, went to the Yukon for the gold rush. Didn't hit it big, of course. Just a little here and there, enough to keep us going."

"But after a few years it dried up, a lot of people abandoned the area. So we did, too. Didn't hear any more about the gang in the news, so, we tried our luck back here in the States. Kept wandering a bit. I killed a man in Roanoke Ridge and became wanted, so, we ran. Ended up in Strawberry and I lucked into this job at Pronghorn Ranch, and, now, I'm here with you, the man I thought died eight years ago." He took a swig of coffee, his eyes on Arthur.

Arthur swirled the coffee in his cup. "Have you heard anything from Tilly or Sadie? Or anyone else?"

"Well, Sadie & I did pass a couple letters back and forth at first. Told her we were going to the Yukon and she said she was in New Austin. Then I didn't hear any more from her. I've never heard from anyone else at all."

"And you haven't heard anything on Dutch? Or Micah?"

John shook his head. "Not a thing."

Arthur shook his head. "It's sad, what's happened to us. Remember how we were in the beginning? We were practically a family. Now we're all just...scattered to the wind. All but disappeared." He coughed into his hand then looked at it and wiped it on his pants.

John nodded at him. "How's the TB?"

"It's actually better, somehow. I definitely still have it, but not near as bad. Something to do with the change, though I'm not sure what." He rubbed his face and sighed. 

John nodded and looked out the window. "Oh, looks like the snow is letting up a little. Maybe I should make a break for it. I'm sure Abigail is worried about where I am." He stood and downed the remainder of his coffee, then set the cup on the table. He turned to Arthur. "So, you're gonna be here for a while longer then?"

Arthur stood and put his cup down, as well. "For now. Till I wear out my welcome." He smiled. "We'll see."

John headed for the door. "Alright, I'll come back and see you soon." He turned back to Arthur, his hand on the doorknob. "Arthur, it's good to see you again. Really." He laughed and shook his head. "Of all the people I'd expect to see..."

Arthur slapped him on the shoulder. "Go on, get outta here. I'll see you later."

John dashed out into the snow, cleared off what had accumulated on his horse, then rode out. Arthur closed the door behind him, then sat back down at the fireplace, astonished at what had just happened.


	4. Chapter 4

John rode back to Pronghorn just as the sun dipped below the horizon and the snow tapered off. There was far less accumulation in the valley than in the mountains, so getting back wasn't as difficult as he thought it'd be.

He hitched Rachel at the post by the cabin and went inside. Abigail was standing at the sink washing up dishes and Jack was on his bed with a book, as usual. "Hey, y'all." He removed his coat and satchel, hanging them on a hook by the door.

She turned to him, drying her hands with a towel. "There you are! Snow's been coming down pretty hard, I was gettin' worried." She pulled out a chair at the table for him and went to the stove to get him a bowl of stew. "You've been gone a long time, everything okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah, just went a little too far up the mountain, got caught in that squall. Hunkered down in a little rundown cabin I came across to wait it out." She set a bowl of stew in front of him, then poured him a cup of coffee. He thanked her as she set it down, then went back to the dishes in the sink. 

John had no intentions of mentioning Arthur to Abigail; there was too much to explain, it was way too complicated. The whole werewolf thing? She'd never understand. And Jack with the fantasy books he liked to read, he'd be too interested and his curiosity might get the better of him. Better to leave them out of it.

Mr. Geddes had been having issues with the Laramies, a gang based at a ranch across the valley from Pronghorn. John had already had a couple of run-ins with those boys--including the leader, Mr. Able--and got Abigail mad at him for his trouble. That night they were awakened by shouts and gunshots. John ran outside to find that the Laramies had stolen the cattle and driven them back to their ranch, the Hanging Dog. He rode with Tom and Abe, another hand, over to the ranch and had a shootout with the Laramies; and as Abe & Tom brought the cattle back, John took care of Mr. Able. When he got back to their cabin, Abigail was waiting with a cold and indifferent attitude. He knew she didn't want him killing anymore, but, this was his job. He was expected to keep the ranch and its property safe. He had no choice.

The next day, after a few hours of chores he went to the cabin for lunch to find it empty. There was a note lying on the table from Abigail, telling him she couldn't see him do this to himself anymore and that she and Jack were leaving. He sat on Jack's bed, feeling defeated and utterly hopeless. 

Realizing that change was necessary within himself, he went back to work, determined now more than ever to do what was right by Abigail and Jack. He threw himself into his work, thinking only of his family and completely forgetting about Arthur. A couple weeks passed when one night he was awakened from a deep sleep by a loud, familiar howl. He sat bolt upright in bed. "Arthur," he whispered.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning John came out of his cabin to find the ranch buzzing with activity. Ranch hands were moving quickly around the ranch and talking amongst themselves. John caught snippets of conversations--most of it was about the wolf. Apparently someone had seen it. 

He found Tom by the barn, talking to another hand. Tom saw John and waved him over, shooing away the other hand. As John approached he asked, "What's going on? Did something happen?"

Tom shrugged. "Well, yes and no. Nothing happened here, yet. But one of the hands was camping after hunting in the valley east of here last night when he heard that bloodcurdling howl. He saw it, Milton. Said it was not like any wolf he'd ever seen. Said it made his blood run cold and he'd never been so scared. Don't know why it didn't eat him, but, he hightailed it back here and left this morning."

John stared at him. "He quit?"

Tom nodded. "Yep. Said he was never coming back as long as that thing was around." John shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. Tom continued, "Mr. Geddes wants a few guards up overnight; I reckon one on the north, one on the east, and one on the south should do pretty well. Would you mind taking a shift?"

John shook his head. "Not at all."

"Okay, good. Sundown tonight, I want you on the south end, okay? Now, we're gonna carry on like a normal day, so, back to work."

John went about his day as best he could, his mind racing. Thoughts of Arthur, Abigail, and Jack tumbled around, making his head hurt. As evening drew closer a dread began to settle on him. He hoped with everything he had that Arthur would stay clear of the ranch. 

\-----------

That night John stood guard, the light from the full moon throwing eerie shadows everywhere. He was a couple hours into his shift and so far all was quiet. He'd spent the time thinking about what to do about Arthur. He couldn't stay in this area, clearly. He couldn't control where he went so he needed to be staying in an area where there were no people. Out west would probably be the best bet.

Suddenly shots rang out, breaking him from his thoughts. Shouting followed, coming from the north. John sprinted toward the noise, finding a large group of men gathered on the north side of the property. "What's going on?" He panted as he came to a stop.

"Earl here saw the thing, right at that treeline," Tom said, pointing to the east.

"I hit the thing, I know I did! It made a noise like I'd never heard before and took off." 

"Which way did it go?" John asked Earl.

"Up that way," he pointed northeast--the direction of the cabin. 

"Okay. Tom, I'm gonna go after it, see if I can find it."

Tom nodded. "We'll all come--"

"No!" John interrupted. "I'll be fine on my own. Everyone needs to be here to keep an eye on the place in case it comes back."

Without another word he went to Rachel and mounted up, nudging her northeast toward the cabin.


	6. Chapter 6

As John rode toward the cabin, his senses on high alert, he kept an eye on the ground for blood--Earl had said he was sure he'd hit him. Sure enough, he found a faint blood trail. Just a few spots here or there, but enough to tell him Arthur was headed back toward the cabin. 

As he made his way up the mountain he saw the cabin ahead. He approached cautiously, his eyes and ears on high alert. He dismounted in front of the cabin and saw a bloody handprint on the door. He slowly pushed it open. "Arthur?" He asked the darkened interior. He heard heavy breathing and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw Arthur laying in a heap on the floor, naked and clutching his side, blood pooling around him.

"Arthur!" John rushed to him, dropping to his knees beside him. 

"John," Arthur whispered. "I've been...shot..."

"Yeah, I know. Let me see." He lifted Arthur's hands to see blood oozing freely from a hole in his ribs. John sucked in a breath. "Dammit, Arthur. You got too close to the ranch." He looked around the cabin, grabbed a blanket off the bed, and wrapped it around Arthur, bunching it up on his wound and applying pressure to try to stop the breathing. 

Arthur's breath was ragged and labored. "I know. Like I said before, I can't control myself." He coughed and winced. "Listen, John. I can come back from small wounds...but this...I don't know..."

John pressed harder on his ribs, making Arthur wince and groan. "Come on, now, don't talk like that. You can make it."

Arthur closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing. Then he said, "In my satchel is a revolver. Go get it." John looked at him, the anguish evident in Arthur's eyes. "Please, John."

John slowly got up, went to the satchel on the table, and withdrew a schofield revolver. He turned to Arthur, a question in his eyes.

Arthur watched him. "I've been told the only thing that will kill werewolves is a silver bullet. There's one chambered in that gun. John, I want you to use it on me. Please."

"Arthur, I--"

"John, please. I've done nothing but suffer for the past eight years. I've been shot so many times and I always come back from it with scars, but please, I beg you. I'm so tired. I'm tired of the running, of the pain. I got this close this time and look what happened. It's only gonna get worse." He coughed and blood splattered from his mouth. "Perhaps I deserve it for my past, but, please. Please, just...shoot me."

Tears were running freely down Arthur's face. All the color had drained from him. John bent and lifted the blanket from his wound to see the blood still oozing. He knew even if Arthur did recover from this it would be a long and painful journey and he would still suffer long-term effects from it. 

John stood and looked down at this pitiful creature; the man with whom he'd grown up; the man who had taught him so many things, so many life lessons. A lump formed in his throat.

"Arthur, you're my brother. I--"

"I know, John," he croaked out. "I know. And I forgive you for this. Don't hate yourself for it. Remember, it's what I want. Okay?"

John looked down at the revolver in his hand. 

Arthur smiled weakly. "Only one--better make it count." 

John raised the gun to Arthur's head. Arthur closed his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Arthur." His vision blurred. Then he pulled the trigger.


End file.
